


Blood in the water

by InkyJustine



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Feelings, Injury, M/M, Nudity, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 16:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10364223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyJustine/pseuds/InkyJustine
Summary: As promised a bath had been prepared in his rooms and Geralt was nowhere to be seen.





	

Monster had broken into their supplies. Under normal circumstances that would have already been enough to inconvenience the Witchers, but in the middle of winter, while the roads were blocked by snow, it could be deadly, even if they could, in theory, go out and hunt. But who wanted to go out into the snow and cold, Eskel grumbled to himself as he trudged through the aforementioned snow. It reached up almost to the middle of his calves.

Back in the fortress, Lambert was wrapped up to the nose in blankets, sitting as close to the fireplace as he could and Vesmir allowed, while Vesemir had played his trump-card of being their mentor so he didn't go out and Eskel had lost to Geralt in a game of stone-paper-scissors. So here he was, making his way to the monster’s cave. The trail wasn't hard to follow in the snow. For a moment he entertained the thought of just starving for a few weeks instead of going after, if he read the footprints right, a bunch of wolves. They hadn't taken the food with them, obviously, but ate it all in their cellar. At least wolves weren’t the hardest of opponents. So this shouldn’t take long, Eskel thought to himself.

A few hours later Eskel had cleared out the lair the pack had taken refuge in and returned to Kaer Morhen. His shoulder was bleeding. Amateur mistake and exactly what he deserved for not checking more closely if there was a werewolf among the regular wolves. It explained why they had been bold enough to break into the fortress and had managed to do so in the first place. On top of that he felt cold as balls. He wasn't sure if he could feel his feet, despite wearing more socks than should be humanly possible. Eskel couldn’t remember the last time, a winter had been this cold, but at least home was warm.

In the great hall, Lambert was still shaped like a blanket-monster and snickered at Eskel's appearance. Snow was frozen solid on Eskel’s shoulders, flecked red in places. Everyone of his breaths fogged in the air until he could stand close to the fire, holding his hands out towards them. Vesemir approached him.

"There's a bath in your room," Vesemir said, "go and get warm. Let me know if you need help treating that." He gestured towards Eskel's wound and Eskel nodded in agreement.

"I will."

Eskel already felt marginally warmer when he walked up to his quarters and as promised, there was the wooden basin they always used. From Geralt there was no sight to be seen. Maybe he had holed up in his own room, envying that Eskel could take a hot bath and he couldn’t as long as the basin was in use. A fire was warming his rooms, and Eskel sighed at the luxury as he slowly peeled himself out of his clothes, wincing when the wound on his shoulder was pulled with the movement. There was a cut across his back, too, he could feel it, but it must have been shallow. It barely even hurt. That would come later as he knew from experience.

But now he was out of the cold and that was what mattered above all else. There was no use for treating wounds if you were going to expire from cold first. A warm trickle of blood down his back he ignored as he stepped into the hot water. While he was soaking, he could wash out the scratches along his shoulder. 

He knew it was a pain to get water up here for a whole bath. There were stairs and a whole lot of doors between the well and whichever room was being used for bathing. Usually they, with the exception of Geralt, didn't bother with anything more than a quick wash to get marginally cleaner. The less skin exposed the better.

With that, Eskel let himself sink down until everything except his knees and his head was submerged. He bend his legs. Bless Papa Vesemir for showing them the practical side of the Igni sign all those years ago.

For a while he dozed, letting the heat soothe his tense muscles, until he heard a noise from outside. Shuffling feet. Then Geralt came in just as he opened his eyes.

"Vesemir told me to come, see if you need any help," Geralt said. Eskel saw bandages and salves in his hand, but no Swallow. Apparently Vesemir didn't find his wounds to be that bad and thus not in need of something stronger.

"Tell Papa Vesemir that I'm a big boy already," Eskel scoffed and closed his eyes again. His hands were resting loosely on his thighs. The door closed. Then footsteps came closer.

"Tell him that yourself," Geralt scoffed back. The bandages and salve were deposited on the ground, Eskel could hear the clinking of the pot and the soft rustling of the cloth. 

Eskel hummed non-committed in reply and heard Geralt pull a chair over to the bathtub. 

"What are you doing?", Eskel asked when Geralt's palms landed on his shoulders. He didn’t startle. His ears were following Geralt as he moved. "Don't tell me your so grateful to me for killing a bunch of wolves that-"

"Shut up, Eskel," Geralt said. It wasn't even angry or put upon, just a gentle rebuff that made Eskel's mouth click curiously shut. Huh. 

The mood grew heavier as Geralt's hands trailed over his neck and at a gentle push Eskel let himself slip deeper into the water, letting his head be supported by Geralt's hand on his neck. The touch itself wasn't unusual. They had fucked often enough that Geralt's hand in his hair or at the back of his head had become familiar, but the context was unusual. For one, Geralt was still dressed. His hand wasn't grasping either, pulling at his hair. No it was just holding and then his other palm was pouring water over Eskel’s hair.

Huh.

"Washing my hair for me?", Eskel asked and looked up at Geralt's upside down face.

"Hmm," Geralt hummed in agreement. It had been years since they had been this tender with each other. Last had been during the Trial of the Grasses. Eskel had been first. Geralt had tended to him then, too, when he had returned from it.

"Vesemir didn't send you, didn't he?" Eskel tilted his head slightly in Geralt’s gentle grip.

Geralt stopped moving, but only for a moment, before he continued wetting Eskel’s hair. "What gives you that idea?"

Eskel raised his brow at Geralt and Geralt smoothed his thumb over it, carefully so as not to get water into Eskel's eye he supposed. "I'm not injured enough to be in need of assistance." It was a little weird, to lie in a bathtub with his knees raised out of the water, while his friend was washing his hair.

Geralt shrugged. It wasn't much as far as answers went, but it would have to do. Eskel wasn't in any mood to argue anyway. He usually wasn't. So he let himself relax into Geralt's weirdly careful hands. Fingers trailed through his hair, not briskly like Eskel would have done were he to wash his hair himself, but taking care not to snag on any tangles.

Once his hair was as clean as it was going to get, Geralt's hands trailed over Eskel's shoulder, hesitating a moment over the wound on his shoulder before cleaning that too. White hair brushed against Eskel's cheek when Geralt leaned closer to inspect it.

"Nothing serious," Geralt commented.

"Could have told you that," Eskel scoffed and then bend forward at the waist when Geralt nudged at his shoulder, loosely resting his forearms on his knees to let Geralt have a look at his back.

"Not serious either?", Eskel asked when Geralt was quiet.

"Nothing that needs stitches. Just some salve to help heal it up," Geralt said. The hands left Eskel and he felt strangely bereft of their touch. But they returned quickly before hesitating again.

"Can’t apply that salve with me being wet," Eskel commented.

"Yeah," Geralt agreed sheepishly. On his way out he hadn't taken any potions with him, which in retrospect had been an amateur move on his part, Eskel reflected. On the other hand it would have meant this moment would have not come at all, or would have involved more nudity on Geralt’s part as well. 

"Ready to get out?", Geralt asked and held up a towel at Eskel's questioning look. Only now Eskel noticed how the water had chilled. The sun had dropped further than he had thought, too.

"Huh," he commented. "Yeah."

His hands on the side of the tub he heaved himself up, water cascading down his body. Behind him, Geralt stood as well.

"I'm getting the full service?", Eskel teased when Geralt unfolded the towel to let him step into it. The wooden floors were chilly against his feet. 

"Only the best for you." There was a smile on Geralt’s face.

"I'm not child to need help like that," Eskel commented. A tiny thread of uncertainty wound through the relaxation. Unlike Geralt he wasn't used to these kind of luxuries.

"You cleaned out that lair heroically after all. You earned it," Geralt said, mildly teasing.

"You earned it," Eskel echoed sullenly, but he still enjoyed the way Geralt rubbed the fabric over his skin, letting himself be handled for once. He only allowed this with Geralt. With anyone else he would have taken the towel from them already and done the job himself. Carefully, Geralt patted at his scratches and then salve was rubbed into them. 

Eskel exhaled. Geralt pressed closer to him than was really warranted, so it was no surprise when Eskel turned his head and was met with Geralt's mouth. And since Eskel was a man who did not often get the opportunity, his body was rising to this one. Not least since it was _Geralt_ so close to him.


End file.
